Everything I remember, I remember in sunshine. Pretty ironic, because I always have an umbrella with me now. And besides, some of the stuff I remember couldn't possibly have happened in sunshine.

Like the time I was out clubbing with Sara and Jamie, the middle of February and snow for three days straight. It was minus ten that night, plus wind chill, and we didn't wear coats 'cos we didn't want the hassle of the coat check.

We got in ahead of the line 'cos the doorman thought Sara was pretty, and just after we got in this guy walks up to me and says, "Do you realise how beautiful you are?", kisses me right on the lips, and walks away. Just like that, in a corridor painted black with red lights, and outside was dark with sparkling snow flying around, hard little crystals because of the cold.

But even though I know all those details, in my mind's eye it's in sunshine, the line and the entrance and the guy kissing me, even though it's all at night too. It's how it works.

The cold I can recall perfectly.

I remember walking home one night. It was raining hard, and I had my umbrella up even though it was pretty much useless. All my clothes were soaking wet. There was so much rain the streetlamps weren't as bright as they usually were. I remember my feet were soaked through because the water was running deep enough through the streets that it came up over the tops of my shoes.

Probably there were headlights, but I remember everything in sunshine now. What I see in my head are the streetlamps and the street and the grey-black water falling from the sky and running all over.

I remember the screeching sound. Nothing else.

I always liked this part of the neighbourhood. The local business association hangs baskets of geraniums or petunias from the lamp-posts in the summer, and volunteers come by and water them in the early morning.

I have to be careful because it's easy for them to see me in the half-light, and they get upset. I think I look like... from just before... but probably I'm not very solid-looking.

Probably my clothes are looking out-of-date too.

I saw Jamie the other day. He was holding hands with a woman about the same age as him. I think he's maybe fifty now. He was telling her about how he used to live in the neighbourhood, and how he still gets a shiver when he crosses the intersection. He didn't mention Sara at all.

There's been a change recently. About a block from the intersection, at the foot of the park, there's a white light. It's not like sunlight, or streetlamps, or headlights. It's just a white light.

It's nice. I went up to it when it first showed up, and it was warm. Just a little bit. Nothing's felt warm since before.